


My Creation

by Emptynarration



Category: Youtube RPF, Youtube egos, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort, Cults, Family, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, One Big Happy Family, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, author is the best boi, blood mention, everyone loves author, family love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:15:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22896289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emptynarration/pseuds/Emptynarration
Summary: At the beginning, there was nothing.But then, there was something.And when he got bored, he made himself things to play with, to be amongst them like nothing more than what they were.But those that weren't his, tried to hunt him, hurt him, seal him.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 22





	1. The beginning

At the beginning, there was nothing.

  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


And then, there was something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had this image of the first chapter in my mind I'm so sorry lol  
> Hope you're stoked by the summary though! :D


	2. The Middle

At first, It was alone. Creating, watching, making.

Humans populated Its once empty creation, growing, spreading, evolving. But It grew bored, as all things grew bored watching the same thing for an eternity. And Its creation was so much more than this ittsy bittsy rock, populated by these being that called themselves human. It didn't want to leave them alone, even though they did well on their own without It.  
Still It created Him. And He saw everything in another way than It did, and It was happy with Its choice. So It left Him in charge of this spot called earth, and these beings called humans, and He was enjoying them, watching them, playing with them. But they weren't His, and He knew that. He hadn't made them, and thus, He could only stand to watch them for so long. He grew bored, as all things grew bored watching the same thing for an eternity.

So he created Them. Playing a hand in all things existing on this thing called a planet, He knew everything. Playing a hand in all things that _would_ exist, He knew everything. So He made Them, and He set Them into the world, and watched Them grow, watched Them evolve, and He gave each and every one of Them a little part of Himself.  
He watched them with a smile, and He wanted more than just this feeling. This feeling of a smile, the knowledge of how these humans smiled. He wanted to feel the same, and thus, He made Himself. Setting Himself into the world, close to Them, because He was a part of Them like They were a part of Him.

-

“ _King!”_ , Bim's voice rang out loud through the manor, and it didn't take long for the owner of said voice to appear. He looked like a mess, usually tidy hair messy and the suit he had been wearing was messy. A squirrel poked out of his hair, and another from one of the pockets of his suit-jacket.  
The window to the outside was wide open, and King was sitting on the windowsill, legs hanging on the outside. The common room was... weird. Space didn't exactly work in this place, and thus the room shifted to be wherever it was needed, pretty much. Easy to be found by every one of the egos, with exits to the outside even when it was in the middle of the manor.

Author was writing, sitting in a corner, listening to Bim and King bicker back and forth, squirrels their audience. If it went on like this, Silver might have to step in, if they kept going like that. Bim may have been the newest to join, but already fit in like he had always been here. And that pleased Him, because He loved His creations, and He loved adding new ones and see Them fair well.

Thankfully, Silver _didn't_ have to come and get the two to settle down. Bim stormed off again in the end, squirrels now safely tucked away with King. Author was glad for it, as he didn't like to have to deal with the hero. He was confusing, with his short-distance teleportation abilities, and his alter-ego. At least he had upgraded his costume to look more like a proper superhero instead of something from a 99ct store.  
A squirrel had found its way to Author, making the writer chuckle when it climbed onto his shoulder. He smiled lightly, unbothered by the presence of the little critter, and continued writing.  
“I still don't get how much they like you.”, King said, and Author hummed lightly in reply.  
“I did live in that forest for a while. They just know me.”, Author replied, shrugging lightly, the squirrel unbothered. He happily continued writing, even when another critter joined the first, resting on his head. King decided not to be bothered further, knowing his babies were safe with Author.

Their silence was comfortable. Author was writing, King was taking care of his squirrels, which enjoyed to go between King and Author. Sometimes they were piled on Author, who was unbothered and just kept writing, while other times, they were mostly with King.

“Alright, I gotta go.”, Author said, gently lifting the few squirrels on him off and setting them down. They chirped up at him, before scurrying off back towards King. He welcomed them happily, giving a smile and wave to Author, who reciprocated it with a sort of salute, before he vanished out the room and into the hallways.  
New egos sometimes managed to get lost in the manor. It was understandable, hallways and even stairs repeated themselves, and you could walk up five stairs and end up in the basement. Usually the halls moved themselves to be how the ego needs them, connecting point A to point B in any way it wants to. Usually so that egos that wanted to get to the same place walked into each other. Author never had had any troubles with it, always overly confident to where he wants to go, always a clear goal in mind.  
This time his goal was Dark's office. He wanted to check up on him, like he usually did once or twice a week. Author had a significant part in keeping the forest safe, in which the manor resided, which Dark took care of. With Author's reality bending powers, he could help with the manor as well, so they met up now and then.

Making his way through the halls, he kept writing. He was pretty much always writing, of course, because writing was what he did. He was the Author, and he loved stories, creating worlds and characters to play around with and amuse him. Making him think, how everything will work, what will happen, taking account what already happened. It was a lot to keep track of, your own little world, but he did wonderfully.  
It were only books, after all, and only stories. Things could be written down, changed and edited, parts erased and remade. The perks of writing, and drawing as well. He loved drawing what he wrote about, show parts of the world only he knew, only he could see.  
Finding the office's door, Author snapped the journal shut, tucking the pen into his pocket, before pushing it open. His presence was known before he entered, as it always was, and neither of them spoke about it. Author strode over, sitting down in the chair on the side of the desk, folding his legs over each other, laying his journal on his lap. Dark was focused on papers on the desk, though he turned his attention to Author once the writer was settled.

There wasn't really anything new with the manor. Dark struggled when he had bad pain days, and Author sympathized with him. He didn't like when Dark was in a lot of pain either, none of the egos did. They were a family, and when Dark suffered from bad pain, everyone tried to be helpful and make it easy on him.  
Generally, there wasn't a whole lot going on in the forest either. The animal life hadn't changed, and Author kept track of people who went inside. Not that he always told Dark about it, but he told him when there was something noteworthy happening.

“There's been some weirdos in the forest.”, Author said, fingers tapping in rhythm on his journal. “I think they're like, a cult. They're always talking about searching for some kind of god or something, it's.. creepy.”.  
Author _looked_ uncomfortable. That was a sight Dark rarely saw, and he worried immediately. If Author was worried about something or someone inside the forest, it was serious. The writer was _never_ nervous or uncomfortable, and seeing him worried was worrying Dark.  
“What do you propose we do?”, Dark asked, and Author shrugged. He had no clue. It worried Dark.  
“I'd rather King stay here, with us. All of us should stay here. It's safer if we're all together, able to protect one another.”, Author said, fingers still relentlessly tapping the journal, the sound only slightly aggravating Dark.  
“You're right.”, Dark agreed, nodding lightly. They could all take care of each other, and the manor was generally safe as long as they stayed inside. There may only be 10 of them, but they could take care of each other.

“I'll go look for King. He's probably gone out again already, and I know the forest the best of all of us.”, Author said, standing up. Dark stood as well, and as much as he trusted Author, he didn't want anything to happen to him.  
“You should take Wilford with you.”, Dark said, as the two of them made their way out of the office, Author's fingernails finally stopping their annoying tapping.  
“I'll be faster alone. And I'll be fine, I promise.”, Author replied, giving Dark a tight-lipped smile. Dark wasn't happy about it, but he knew there was no arguing with Author when he was like this.  
“I'll be waiting for you by the garden. Be back in an hour.”, Dark told Author, and the writer sighed, before nodding lightly. At least he'd come back and check in for a minute, before going back out. If he didn't find King until then.

Dark went ahead and told everyone to stay inside, relaying what Author had told him, and also counting who was all home in the first place. Author immediately went out, only setting his journal and pen down in his room before he was outside.

He had to find King. It worried him, because he didn't know where King was, or what may be happening. But he felt like he knew where he should go. He couldn't let those crazy maniacs find King, he couldn't let them find the manor either. He had to protect his family, with all means.  
His steps were fast, nothing in his way as he hurried, nearly ran. He would find King, he'd bring him home, and he'd keep him _safe_. That was all he wanted at the moment, even if he wasn't sure where King was exactly.

He heard the strange chanting from far away. He could feel the energy, making his nerves fizzle and feel like they were burning. But he didn't stop, even when every fibre in his being _screamed_ at him to leave, to turn around and run far away.  
But he saw the squirrels, terrified, only peeking out because he was close. And he knew they had King, he knew he needed to get him and at least give him the chance to run and get home, to safety.  
His steps didn't falter, his pace didn't slow, and while his whole being felt like a blurry image looked like, he didn't stop. Because he was the only one who could get King, and get him out safely. He knew that, and he knew this was a terribly idea, that he should have taken Wilford with him at the very least to get the chances higher that _all of them_ would get home again.

It was a circle of identical looking people. Hidden behind deep velvet cloaks, hoods hanging deep into their face, golden embroidery decorating the edges with strings and eyes. Their hands were clasped together in front of them, heads bowed and hands on the same height in front of them.  
Author took a deep breath as he pushed through them, shoving two of them to the side, and hurried to King's side. The man was kneeling on the ground, crying and obviously terrified. When he looked up at Author, he got a headache.  
“It's okay now. Run home. Don't look back.”, Author said, helping King to his feet, the chanting had grown louder, and Author's head was pounding, his breathing heavy.  
“Author?...”, King's voice was quiet, afraid, _terrified_ . But Author just gently nudged King into the direction of their home.  
“ _Run_.”

King didn't spend another second doubting Author, instead immediately taking off. He just _ran_ , he ran and he ran, cape somehow not getting stuck, crown staying on his head, and he ran, breathing hard, adrenaline pumping through his veins.  
His sight was blurry when he arrived at the manor, and he crashed fully into Dark, gasping desperately for air as the cool entity held King tightly. He realized that Dark was _talking_ once he managed to get his breath back, and felt a bit more calmer.  
“ _They have Author_ -”, was all King had to say, and Dark held him even tighter, shell cracking around them. King whimpered softly, but he knew he was safe here. He was terrified, but even more so because he didn't know what was going to happen to Author. He was gone, with those maniacs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like this fic it's so good!!


	3. The End

His head was buzzing.

Taking a deep breath, Author considered his options. He was laying on cold concrete, his wrists and ankles were in tight metal chains, which were connected to the ground with little give. He couldn't really make much out from his position, but he could see something reddish-brown drawn on the ground all around him.   
Considering where he was, and who had taken him, he didn't really want to know what was on the ground. Neither what it was made of, nor what the shape/s were.

The same figures as in the forest were surrounding him, the same amount as far as Author could tell. He didn't listen to what they were saying -some weird chanting again, different than last time, but the same language- but he knew what they were trying to do.  
“Let me go you fucking lunatics!”, Author snarled, yanking at the chains. These people were certain they had found what they had been looking for.  
“Your words do not matter, as you are only a vessel for our merciless god.”, one of the figures said, above the chanting, and Author glared at them -as they stood in the direction of his feet.  
“Merciless god? What the fuck are you even talking about?”, Author scoffed, staring at the ceiling. His head was throbbing, buzzing as if it were vibrating at an impossible speed.  
“Silence.”, the figure's tone carried authority, but Author just growled at him, not afraid. He should've been more careful, should've paid more attention to what was happening, instead of always writing and making up new things, ignoring reality for the most part.

With the chanting, Author grew more and more uncomfortable. His entire skin was tingling, and his breathing was heavy. He lost focus, eyes hazy as he stared up at the ceiling, getting glassy looking. When he lost the feeling in the tips of his fingers and toes, he blinked slowly, turning his head to see.  
They were fading.  
These people were trying to separate a god from a human. And Author knew that didn't work. There was no god _trapped_ inside of him. They couldn't separate two things that weren't there to even be separated.

They were going to kill him. In a way. Erase him from existence more likely, because he was starting to fade, and he could barely get to breathe anymore.  
He hadn't created him as a vessel, He had created him to _be_ Him, and he was. There was no way to separate them, because Author _is_ Him, and he wasn't made to withstand anything more than what a human could.

“ _Stop_.”, his voice was wavering, and he gasped as pure _agony_ washed over him. He couldn't breathe, he could barely _think_ , as every fibre of his being screamed in pain, eyes squeezing shut. It hurt, it hurt, he was unable to think about _anything_ other than the pain He was in.  
“Stop! Stop stop stop-”, He couldn't breathe, every breath a gasp, His hands and ankles pulling on the restraints involuntary, as His limbs felt numb and non-existent -though they still were there, if a little translucent at the edges. He was fizzing, His whole body blurry like a picture of movement. The chanting grew louder, and His head hurt, His eyes were throbbing, and He could feel what He guessed were tears running down His cheeks.  
At least He had saved King. The first He had made, after He had let Dark and Wilford, as well as the Jims, live their lifes. He had always felt most close to King, since he was the one He had tried something else with. King didn't have any obvious powers, besides being great with animals, but He loved him all the same.

He loved all of Them, and He was glad he had gotten to be with them. But He wasn't sure if He would get to see them again. These people were breaking His body, were breaking Author, and He couldn't help the deep sadness settling inside of him alongside the pain.  
He had created Author to keep doing what He loved. Taking care of worlds, of characters, be creative and do whatever He liked. But He had forgotten about _this_ world, the one they all lived in, the one It had left to Him to love and help grow. And now He was tortured, as people tried to separate Him from Himself.

Author wouldn't make it through this, He realized. If _something_ were to happen, Author wouldn't be able to keep going. This body was breaking, being torn apart at the seams, and He had to do something. Something. _Anything_.  
But not if this kept going. His senses were completely fried, He didn't feel anything anymore, he didn't see, he didn't feel, he didn't hear. Everything was white, blinding hot _pain_.

He noticed something off, suddenly. He could hear something. Faint, high pitched ringing. He was suddenly ripped out of whatever strange state he'd been in, and gasped like he hadn't took a breath in years. Hands searching for purchase at whatever had him, his whole body shaking, eyes unseeing, senses broken and shredded.  
 _“I got you_.”, a voice said, echoing, deep, _Dark_. He clung to him, desperate, but he _couldn't see_ , and he could bare breathe, and Dark was holding him tighter than he would've thought the man would ever.  
Because They were all a part of Him. And Him being hurt, would hurt Them, as They all carried a piece of Him inside of Them. But He couldn't do anything. The only thing He could do, was cling to Dark, and try and listen.

“ _Keep it together. Tell us how to help. We're all here.”_. He could only listen. His head was empty, he couldn't focus, his eyes refused to work, and all he could do was _listen_. And it hurt, because He could feel all of His pieces, all around him, and there was no chanting, there was no pain, and He was crying still.  
“Who-”, his voice was barely audible, it cracked and broke off, and Author shook even more. He couldn't do it. He couldn't do it.

He had to think of something. Author couldn't survive this, while He could. He had to do _something_. If _Author_ couldn't survive this, He needed to make a “new” character. He needed to mold something out of Author and into someone new. It would still be Him, still Him inside a character made for Him, but not Author anymore.  
And He knew, They would understand, and They would love him like He loved Them. There was nothing else that could happen. He knew They'd be confused, They wouldn't understand at first, and He'd have to explain. But that was alright.  
For now, He had to make something new. Of course, Author had always been Him, so his writing wasn't doing the reality bending, but Him willing whatever he wanted to be how He wanted it to be. His new character of course wouldn't exactly need any “powers” either, but it should still be close to what Author had been. He couldn't see anymore, and He wasn't sure if that was permanent. If He'd be blind, He couldn't write.

“ _Author?_ ”, Dark's voice was back, and He realized that His grip had slackened and He'd been silent, fully ignoring what was happening around Him. He had to react now though, since He didn't want Dark to think he was dead.  
He managed to shake his head, holding onto Dark tighter again. He noticed he had been moved. He wasn't laying on the ground anymore, but in Dark's arms, feeling his cold against Him, the muscles of his arms. He was being brought home. Iplier was nearby, and clearly in a state of panic, and while He could see without eyes anyways, perhaps His new character would have the same ability.  
“ _Dark, he's still bleeding, are you sure he's awake?”_ , it was the doctor's voice, and He knew it was Him he was talking about. Finally away from the place where they had been, He noticed that it weren't tears on His cheeks, but blood. No wonder the doctor was worrying about Him so much.  
“ _He's holding onto me, and shook his head. He's awake, and alive. You can worry once we're home.”_ , Dark replied. He wanted to tell him that he didn't have to worry, He was fine, He would be okay again. But they didn't know who He was, and they were worrying about Author.

He lost awareness for a while, as His attention was brought to so many more points on the planet, and He knew He should leave Author. They would be sad, and He would be sad, but He had abandoned the work of taking care of this world, the one thing He'd been _made_ to do. But He didn't want to leave Them behind, because He loved Them, more than anything.  
He made the bold choice of leaving Author, but leaving enough of Himself to keep him existing, keep him alive. Almost a comatose state, as He left to take care of the world again, at least for a while. He kept checking back in on Them, because He worried, and They worried about Author, about Him, and He didn't want to leave Them behind for too long.  
But it takes time, and He had to leave Them alone for weeks, and They worried and worried about him, as all he did was sleep, and breathe, and exist without anything to keep him going. It was terrifying for Them, and He knew it, but He needed the time.

When He came back, He knew who he was supposed to be now. He was still blind, still bleeding from his eyes, but it slowed and stopped as He awoke slowly inside of him once more.

His eyes were bandaged. Freshly changed, if he were to guess, since they didn't feel like they were wet or sticking to his skin. It was nice and comfortable, and he wondered what state his eyes were in. It was probably nothing he had to worry about though, he probably wouldn't be able to see anymore either way.  
He let his Sight creep into him, and it swept through the room. He was in Iplier's clinic, and the man was sleeping at his desk. He really should stop that, it wasn't good for his back, or his neck. He was wearing one of his oversized sweaters and sweats, which was nice, and he carefully sat up. He could feel Iplier's worry in his sleep, filling the room, mixed with all of the others' visiting and worrying. He couldn't wait to feel their happiness and relief to see him up and running again.

Carefully, he moved off the bed. He felt steady on his feet, so he carefully walked over to Iplier. The more he moved in his body, the more comfortable he felt with who he was. His muscles had deteriorated over the time he spend sleeping in bed, but Iplier had obviously taken good care of him. He had no rashes, no bruises, nothing felt uncomfortable. Other than feeling a little weak.  
“Iplier, wake up.”, his voice was quiet and weak, but he'd get it back soon enough. Unable to write, he had decided to talk. He'd had to get used to that, though. Shaking Iplier lightly, the doctor groaned, burying his face further into his arms.  
“Leave me alone...”, he muttered, voice heavy with sleep, and who had once been Author smiled lightly.  
“The Host would rather not.”, he replied softly, poking Iplier's temple instead. “He implores the doctor to wake up.”. He knew Iplier tensed upon hearing him, and he pulled his hand back just before Iplier suddenly sat up, eyes wide.

“What- but- you-”, he stammered, looking up at Host with wide eyes. And then he jumped up, hugging Host tight, like he couldn't believe he was there.  
“You're _awake_ -”, Iplier couldn't help but sob, clinging to Host. Host wrapped his arms around Iplier as well, gently holding him, leaning his head on Iplier's shoulder. The doctor didn't need long to pull back, immediately fretting over Host.  
“You- you shouldn't be up already, come on, back to bed. At least- sit down, will you?”, Iplier gently nudged Host, making him obediently walk back to the bed, sitting down. Host felt fine, besides pretty weak, so he guessed there'd be some physical therapy in store for him, and working up to solid foods again.

“Okay, okay okay okay.”, Iplier ran a hand through his hair, before wiping his eyes and taking a deep breath.  
“How are you feeling? Any pain? Anything?”, Iplier asked then, because he was a doctor, and Host had just woken up and walked around and spoken already.   
“The Host feels alright, albeit a bit weak. He isn't experiencing any sort of pain at the moment.”, Host replied patiently, hands folded in his lap. Iplier took in the changes, of how he spoke, how he held himself.  
“Host?”, Iplier repeated, and Host nodded lightly. Iplier hummed, and noted it. Host, then. Speaking in third person. He wondered why that was, though he knew Host was blind now.  
“Yes. The Host would prefer to go by his new name now.”, Host replied, and Iplier hummed lightly, nodding. That was alright then, a lot had happened. It was very _sudden_ , of course, but if Host said so he wouldn't argue.

“Do you remember what happened?”, Iplier asked, and Host hummed lightly, nodding. “How much?”, Iplier continued then, “Up until what point?”.  
“The Host remembers the cult, he hadn't been aware of the others coming until Dark was holding him. He fell out of awareness after Dark replied to Iplier that the Host was alive still.”, Host answered, and Iplier nodded along. That was a lot, and with what was happening to Author at the time, he wasn't surprised he hadn't noticed what was happening around him.  
“Alright. Good. So, what happened?”, Iplier asked then, sitting down next to Host, looking concerned, voice softer than before. More personal rather than professional.  
“Maybe... maybe Host should explain with the others there as well.”, Host replied, and Iplier sighed softly, but nodded. He could tell Host was tense.  
“Of course. I'll get you something to eat first, and then we can call a meeting.”, Iplier said, standing up again. Host nodded lightly, and the doctor left.

Iplier brought him some noodle soup. Afterwards, calling a meeting was filling nearly the entire manor with the feelings of relief, surprise, and happiness. Host could feel it, and he was happy as well.

Explaining what had happened was harder. Explaining what the cult had been trying to do, and then why it seemed to _work_.   
“The Host, and The Author, are... difficult to explain.”, Host started, and he was glad everyone was quiet for him to talk until he was done. “All of you are egos, as you all are aware of. The Author, the Host, I, are not. We aren't a vessel for a god. We, like you, are a creation of a being. A being, made by another, to watch over this world and help it grow. But, this being, He was bored with merely watching. He created all of you, one by one, giving a little bit of Himself to every one of you. That is why you are special. And He wanted to be a part of that. He wanted to be one of you, one of His creations he loves so so much.”, his voice got a little shaky. He didn't dare look at them, keeping his gaze and awareness on his fingers in his lap, nervously fiddling with them.  
There was no reason to be nervous, of course. He created Them, and They would love Him as He loved Them. But explaining it, in person, to them, admitting it all, it scared him a little bit.  
“The Author couldn't survive what had happened with the cult. His form was fickle, the cult trying to separate Author from Him, something impossible, broke him apart, ripped him into pieces by the seams. And He, I, had to come up with something else. With another character, someone new, to make out of Author.”, he took a deep breath, releasing it slowly.  
“He is sorry He was gone for so long. He had neglected taking care of this creation, of all He was supposed to help and watch. So He had to be away, just leaving enough of Himself behind that Author wouldn't... vanish, in a way. And He hopes you can accept Host as you had accepted Author. The Host can leave, if it's.. it's preferred.”.

He was trembling slightly, and blood seeped into his bandages. He might be holding himself back from crying. He loved Them. He wanted to stay with Them. But this, it was a lot. It was a lot for Them, and He knew it, and he just wanted to apologize to them for all of this. He just hadn't wanted to leave them alone, leave them without Author, without him.

He was startled when there was suddenly an arm around him, and was pulled into a hug. He couldn't hold back his awareness now, letting it flood the room. He could feel the confusion, the questions, but also acceptance. He could feel some concern and worry as well, and he knew the main source of that was Iplier, who was holding him. To whom Host clung, hiding his face against his chest.  
And He knew, it was a lot to take in for Them. And He knew that They might _not_ accept Him, accept him, but he hoped. Because He loved Them _so much_.

“It's okay Host.”, Iplier said softly, and finally, Host heard the others as well. They shared the sentiment. _It's okay. Thank you for telling us. I'm so glad you're here with us. I love you too._

_We love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end _may_ seem a little abrupt, but I actually really like it  
> I think it's nice!!


End file.
